“God, I ask you...”
Those were the words I used to whisper before falling into Morpheus' arms, before my lips tasted the bitter flavor of reality.
I miss that little being, that former self full of hopes and joy, who called on you every night to ask for trivial things and thank you for every spark of light in his world. Now, the weary soul that inhabits this same body no longer calls upon you. It's not that I hate you, nor have I stopped believing in you... but what else could I ask of you when you have already taken away the only thing I loved?
You took away that force of love that lifted me out of bed every morning and filled the cracks in my broken heart. Today, that force has vanished, and with it, my will to live has been extinguished forever. So I ask myself: why ask for happiness, love, or joy? Nothing will make sense without her.
Now, instead of asking you, I wonder what else you could take from me if there is nothing of value left in me. Or, perhaps, I wonder if I can beg you for the only thing my soul desperately longs for:
death.
